They ride for hours on end throughout the Kingsroad, the hounds trailing not far behind. The air was cold and crisp against his skin, as snow began to fall. It is the height of summer, and it is snowing. Usually he would have commented on how absurd the northern weather was, but now was not one of those times. It never seemed to be the right time, for the atmosphere had turned dark and sullen the moment word got out that Eddard Stark's son and bastard daughter were missing.
When Jaime had first heard of it, he had truly thought it a joke, a misunderstanding. Then he saw Stark, saw the paleness of his skin and dread in his eyes, and he knew it to be true. He couldn't believe it, couldn't really wrap his mind around it, he could only imagine how the Lord of Winterfell felt. To think, that a Stark would run away with his own sister, damming everything else. 'Damming his responsibility as heir, damming his honor, damming everything, all for her. For the woman he loved.'
He heard some of the rumors, about the Snow girl being kidnapped by wildling savages, about her being kidnapped by her own brother. But he knew, from the moment he first set eyes on them, what they truly were to each other. He saw the truth of it and he knows, despite how displeased she was with the entire situation, Cersei saw it too. He remembered the way her gaze had slightly softened at the bastard girl, but only slightly. He remembered the way Robb Stark had fiercely protected his sister from Robert's lusting gaze and Jaime wished he could do the same most of the time.
He envied him, he envied them. There were days when he envisioned him and Cersei gathering their children and taking a ship to Essos. Letting go of it all. Letting go of the name Lannister, letting go of Casterly Rock and that blasted pile of melted swords. So they could be free and love each other without being ashamed of it, without hiding behind closed doors. But Cersei always valued power more than she did their love.
Robb Stark did what he only dreams he can do, and for that he envies him. He admires him.
It is dusk when they ride through the gates of Winterfell, the stable hands gathering their horses, as they make their way to the the Great Hall. The mix of southern and northern guards are weary and tired, while Lord Stark looks absolutely drained. Jaime almost pities him, almost. They had yet to find clues as to where his missing children could have went. They all enter the hall, immediately engulfed by the warmth of the hearth. The king sits upon the throne of winter, garbed in furs. A goblet of wine rest in his hands, and his face is beat red. 'As expected,'.
"Your Grace," Stark's voice is grim, as he gravels before the Fat King, everyone doing the same. Cersei is seated next to him, pretending to be indifferent to the situation, but he knows….
"Rise," he gestured his hand, the guards standing to their feet again. "Have you found anything Ned?," he has been disturbingly interested in the sudden disappearance of Robb Stark and Lyarra Snow, and Jaime has an inkling of why that is. He wonders if Stark knows to.
"No your Grace, we haven't found anything," his voice is low and tired.
It's silent for a moment before Robert grumbles, rubbing his beard, "What of the girl,have you found anything of her yet?" Lord Stark's form stills, as he stares at the king incredulously.
"As I have said before your Grace, we have found nothing of my son or my daughter." His words became stern, and the knight could feel the air became tense.
King Robert glares down at his friend, eyes darkening, "There's something not right here Ned. Something's not right with that boy of your's. What business does he have taking off with his own sister! And a sweet girl like that…" his voice trails off, before darkening completely, and for a moment he is something reminiscent to the Demon of the Trident, "No, she wouldn't have gone willingly. Something is very wrong here Ned, something is wrong with that boy." It is as if he is drifting to another time, another place in his mind that is so similar to this one.
The silence was almost deafening, no one dared to utter a word. Except Stark, "That is my son you speak of Robert, my son. And my daughter. They are my business and my business alone, not yours," he says it dangerously low, "This is over now. We will began searching again, tomorrow," he sounded sorrowful and defeated by that, but steeled his voice nonetheless.
"Like hell we won't!" the king's voice booms throughout the hall freezing everyone in it. He slammed his fist against the wooden arm rest, "They are missing! She is missing! He has your daughter dammit, he has Lyanna!" the tension in the air was so thick a knife could slice through it. Everyone was deathly quiet, for there was nothing they could say, nothing they would want to say, or do. He looked toward Cersei and she was still as a statue, face pale and hands clenched tightly.
Lord Stark's eyes darkened and his face became devoid of any emotion, "Lyanna? Is that what this is about? Lyarra is not Lyanna, Robert. This isn't about you, this isn't about her." He says it through gritted teeth, "And for you to even assume that my son would...that he would rape and kidnap…" he shook his head, eyes closed. "You may be king, but you are within my home. And we are discussing my children, and this discussion ends now." He turns to leave. "Goodnight your Grace."
Roberts face becomes more red, if that could even be considered possible. "As the future Hand you have a duty to obey your king!" he rises from the wooden throne, goblet dropping to the floor.
Eddard Stark halts in his steps, hands tightened, his knuckles became pure white. He turns around to face Robert, looking him in his eyes heatedly, "It is my deepest apologies to you your Grace,"his voice lacks any form of emotion "But I will be declining the honor you wish to bestow upon me. My heir is missing, my daughter is missing, and my family needs me here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell and I intend to be so. I will not go south with you, I will stay north, where I belong." And without another word he leaves the hall, leaving stunned silence in his wake.
It's quite for a good minute, before Robert starts screaming bloody murder.
Jaime think's on the moment he first set foot in Winterfell, he remembers thinking about how dreary and boring these people were but now… 'These Stark's aren't so boring after all.'.